


where the spirit meets the bones

by auberigine



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, F/F, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mutual Pining, Post-Episode: s05e05 Save the Cat, or what if the original save the cat script was canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28680810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auberigine/pseuds/auberigine
Summary: Adora had made a promise to Catra years ago that she would protect her from everything. She would save her from it all.  She would’ve done anything to keep her promises to Catra — both back then and now. She’s going to do whatever it takes to make sure she can keep this one.“I promised you I'd take you home,” She says. "I meant that. I’m gonna do my best to get it right.”(Or Catra and Adora in the aftermath of Horde Prime.)
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 49
Kudos: 238





	where the spirit meets the bones

**Author's Note:**

> _“Night is a time of rigor, but also of mercy. There are truths which one can see only when it’s dark.”_ ― Isaac Bashevis Singer.
> 
> hi! whew this was meant to be a short one-shot and now over a month and almost 18k words later....  
> this is mostly inspired by this art on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gothgrapes1/status/1329717756699111426?s=21) as well as the original save the cat script that was released back in november. 
> 
> title comes from taylor swift's "ivy", also want to give a big thank you to whitney for reading this over and ellie for listening to me rant about this for weeks after the script came out.....couldn't have done it w/o you guys
> 
> i hope you all enjoy!

Nights on Darla are always quiet.

There’s nothing but the soft thrum of the ship as it moves through space, the quiet snores of Bow and Glimmer ― and Entrapta if she’s lucky ― beside her. It’s peaceful, in that jumbled way that space just is. It’s different from Bright Moon, a different kind of peacefulness, a different kind of calm.

Adora’s still trying to get used to it.

Now, though, it’s a frenzied and erratic thing ― Adora has no idea how she could have ever called this peaceful. Darla jolts with every minute that passes, a lurch that sends all of them stumbling, trying to catch their breath. Entrapta bounces around the ship like a soldier on a mission ― though that’s nothing new, she supposes. At least now she’s trying to fix some damage, instead of accidentally causing it.

The soft thrum of the ship is gone too; now, all there is is this incessant beeping, the emergency alarms going overboard as they whir and buzz throughout the ship. None of them are getting any sleep anytime soon.

Entrapta bounces back and forth from the hull of the ship to the brig ― she had left to check on Catra half an hour ago. She’s still not back.

Adora’s not worried. She’s not. Catra’s probably fine ― of course she’s fine. She-Ra healed her, that dull throb that accompanies her healing abilities is enough proof of that. (She’s careful not to put too much pressure on her knees. The last thing they all need is Adora collapsing before they can even get the chance to get back to Etheria.) Catra should be fine. She will be fine. Her healing has never failed before.

Then again, she thinks, somewhat bitterly, she’s never brought someone back from the dead before.

Catra had died. She had plummeted off that platform, head first; She can still hear Catra’s scream before she fell, she can practically picture the way her bones must have snapped as she hit the ground. Adora had held her broken, lifeless body in her arms as Catra had shook, breathing a few shaky breaths before stopping altogether. She had died. If Adora hadn’t been able to summon She-Ra ―

She could have lost Catra for good tonight.

She tries not to think about it. She doesn’t think she succeeds.

Beside her, Glimmer bites on her nails, shifting from one foot to the other. “Do you think she’s okay?”

“She’s going to be fine.”

Glimmer and Bow both look at her; Adora can see the pity and concern in their gaze, clear as day. She hates it. “Adora,” Glimmer starts.

“She is,” She snaps, voice hard. Adora doesn’t dare think of what would happen if it doesn’t work ― if She-Ra’s healing doesn’t reach that far. She can’t.

Adora doesn’t even want to think about it. She doesn’t want to think at all ― of Catra, of Horde Prime, of the feeling of Catra limply cradled in her arms ― She just wants it all to stop.

Bow and Glimmer share a look and Adora pushes down the urge to give the Captain’s chair a violent kick. “She’s going to be okay, alright?” Bow says, moving to place a hand on Adora’s shoulder.

“I know that,” She says. Does she?

Bow smiles sadly. “You know how She-Ra’s healing works. It’s gonna take awhile for her to fully heal.”

“If she fully heals at all,” Adora says, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. They had all seen Catra; none of them knew what Prime had done to her but her injuries, the way she had cried out in pain as Adora had carried her to the brig hours ago, was something deeper than just her fall from the platform.

Adora has healed broken arms and cracked ribs and magic-induced burns, but never has she brought someone back from death. Every bone in her body seemed as though it was caved in, Adora had felt them as she held her. Can she even fix all that? Or is Catra always going to feel the moment her body shattered every time she moves? Adora clenches her fist, trying to quell the sudden rage that bubbles within her. Prime had broken her. “I’ve never done this before. I mean she was ―”

“Dead,” Glimmer whispers. When Adora looks at her, her eyes are glistening with unshed tears, her hands clenched into fists. She still doesn’t know what happened with both of them while they were on Horde Prime’s ship. None of them do. She isn’t sure if she wants to. “When we brought her onto the ship,” Glimmer says, looking behind them at the door, “She wasn’t moving. She wasn’t even breathing.”

Adora lets out a breath, the sound a mix of a sob and a sigh. “He ―” What can she even say to that? Prime brainwashed her, tortured her? There’s not enough words to describe everything he took from her. She closes her eyes. There’s a feeling that slashes against her chest, big and brutal and overwhelming. Adora pushes it down.

“She’s gonna be fine,” She repeats. She’s going to be fine. She has to be. Adora will not lose her again.

━━━━━

It’s late when she sneaks out of the bunk room.

She’s not completely sure what time it is — it’s harder to tell in space. It messes up their entire routine and none of them are quite used to it yet. It had set Adora on edge when they first left Etheria — she hasn’t forgotten the panic attack she had when she realized almost all of their routines would be ruined; it had taken Bow nearly an hour to calm her down — it still does. Now, though, as she slowly creaks open the door to the medical bay, she can’t say she minds.

Putting a category — a time — would make it real. Adora is far too scared to make this a living, breathing thing. She will cling to this place beyond time for as long as she is allowed. She just wants to exist in a space where it is just her and Catra; without the weight of what they’ve done or how they got here or what there is left to do. That’s how it used to be, when they were young. Her and Catra against the world, against everything. They made a place only for the two of them. Sometimes she just wants to go back to that world. She knows she never can.

She closes the door behind her, quietly, flicking the lights on. Outside, she can just barely hear the sounds of Entrapta tinkering excitedly with Darla.

Something about this feels wrong, like Adora is encroaching on something forbidden. It makes her feel like she’s on a ledge, about to fall, like she has to look around to see who might be watching.

She still has to remind herself that she’s allowed to have these moments with Catra, to think about her like this. Catra isn’t her enemy. Not anymore.

The room is still, silent except the soft whirs of the First One’s machinery. The light is blinding, and it takes Adora a while to fully adjust to the way it reflects off the panels, shrouding the room in blue light.

She sits next to the bed, brushing her hands against Catra’s. Her instinct is to curl around her and twine their fingers together. She’d do that a lot, when they were younger, mold her body against Catra’s, like two missing pieces of a puzzle, and clasp their hands together; sometimes she’d run her hands through her hair as Catra purred. Eventually, it became instinctual, like muscle memory — it became as natural to her as breathing; Adora would always reach for Catra, without question.

Over the years, she’s become good at ignoring her instincts, her muscle memory. She’s had to rewrite all that from the start.

“I used to dream about you, you know,” Adora says. “I didn’t think — I always knew that you could do this. I wanted to," She stops herself, taking a deep breath, "I needed to stop hoping that you would but, I always knew that you could make that choice.”

Adora used to keep a diary, before Horde Prime, before everything. It was something she could be honest with, without fear, without judgement. Even then, she only really took it out before she went to sleep, when all of Bright Moon was settling down — no one could catch her like that. She could be as honest, as open, as she wanted.

It seems like the only moments she knows how to be honest is in the dark.

“I just used to dream about it constantly, of you coming to Bright Moon, or defecting from the Horde — just all of it," Her voice breaks, and Adora hugs her knees to her chest.

She knows she should be better than this — be better than almost breaking down in the medical bay in the middle of the night over, what, how she wished things could go? She should be stronger than this but right now she just doesn’t care. Catra is here, alive, and a part of her that she has tried so hard to stitch back together feels like it is breaking open. "It was so stupid too. Sometimes you would sneak away from battles just to talk to me or climb into my room in the middle of the night.”

She looks at her then, gazing at the rise and fall of her chest. It’s not as shaky as it used to be, it’s gentler now. At least that’s progress. “I just wanted you with me,” She whispers. “I’ve always wanted you with me, and now you’re here and I don’t —“

Adora presses her face into her knees. “I don’t know what to do,” She says. She had dreamed of what it might be like to have Catra here with her. Even before they found Horde Prime’s ship, she thought of what would happen, with her, with them. Adora had known rescuing her was a risk, an enormous, selfish risk, but she took it anyway. She knew there was a chance that it wouldn’t work, that she would fail, but for once Adora didn’t care. She had to do this.

She had put so much time into fantasizing on what this would be like. Adora never had pictured this. 

Horde Prime was nothing like she planned for. Glimmer had warned them, all of them, before they left, on what he’d be like. Adora had expected this dark, sickly, looming figure who taunts and strikes without a care for anyone around him. She hadn’t expected Catra, frail and on the verge of collapse, and her serene smile.

She hadn’t expected Prime to grab her face like she was a possession he’d been waiting his whole life for. Even just thinking about it makes her stomach turn.

She hadn’t expected everything he told her about Catra.

That had been the very last thing Adora had expected.

Her hands twitch, itching for something to do, for something to punch. She settles on digging her nails into her shin. It doesn’t help.

“You know,” She starts, “In Bright Moon, they have these cakes. They’re the best, I mean all the food there is great; it’s like a million times better than those brown ration bars. I always thought you might’ve liked something like that,” She’s rambling now, letting all the thoughts, the fantasies, she’s kept buried for years flow out of her as she tries to ignore the pounding in her chest, the pit in her stomach.

“I tried making one for Bow’s birthday but I kinda ruined the whole kitchen,” Adora laughs wetly at the memory. “I wasn’t allowed back in unsupervised for months,” She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her then, the way she would’ve laughed at Adora, her hair a mess and flour smeared all over her. She couldn’t stop thinking She would’ve loved this. It didn’t feel like it was fair at the time, the way Catra had such a hold on her even after everything.

“There’s so many things I wanted to show you about Bright Moon. And now,” Adora looks up at her. She wonders what Catra would say to all that. She wonders if she would’ve wanted to experience all those things with her too. Adora thinks she knows what her answer would be. “Now I don’t know,” She sighs. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen, I don’t know anything, but I know that I’ve missed you. So much. I don’t think I knew how much until now.”

The ship jolts, the lights flickering on and off for a second. Adora can hear the hushed whispers of someone outside as some supplies come tumbling off the shelves, but she doesn’t pay any attention to that. All she can focus on right now is Catra.

“I promised you that I would take you home,” She whispers. She remembers how Catra had tried to grab her hand; she remembers how she couldn’t.

Adora had promised. She would’ve done anything to keep her promises to Catra — both back then and now. She’s going to do whatever it takes to make sure she can keep this one. “I meant that. I’m gonna do my best to get it right this time.”

━━━━━

The rooftop of the Forge is always peaceful.

That's how she'll remember it, afterwards, alone in the dark with nothing but her own wants and regrets and everything she has tried so hard to bury for the last three years to keep her company.

This is how she will remember it. Peaceful. Quiet, in a way the rest of the Fright Zone never was, never could be. Adora had always felt like it had belonged to her and Catra, in a way. The Fright Zone never quite felt as suffocating up there with her. It felt like home.

She doesn’t think she’ll ever forget that, that peace.

Adora’s not really sure how it started, her and Catra always navigating to the rooftop to get away from it all. She barely remembers why Catra had started coming up here; she was upset one night and gracefully climbed up, despite Adora’s protest. She had followed her up there, nearly falling after her foot slipped off one of the landings.

Catra had jumped after her, her arms slipping around Adora’s waist and hauling her up with practiced ease. That Adora remembers well.

She had stolen a grappling hook from Octavia a week later.

Now, Adora clings to Catra’s back as she leaps up onto the rooftop, grumbling as she jumps over the railing. It’s easier this way — she’s less likely to do something stupid and break her neck, Catra’s words, not hers — but Adora can’t help but stammer and flail as Catra unhooks her hands from the back of her knees, signaling her to get off. She forgets, sometimes, just how strong Catra is. She doesn’t know why it makes her face feel like it’s on fire.

“Uh, Adora?”

She tightens her arms from where they’re wrapped around Catra’s shoulders, feeling the muscles shift as she does. She swallows hard. “Yeah?”

“You can get off now.”

“Right,” She doesn’t move an inch. Her brain is on overload, repeating the feel of Catra’s hands on her thighs and the unfairly graceful way she had jumped up to the rooftop, as if Adora hadn’t been onto her back hanging on for her life, as if Adora had weighed absolutely nothing.

This is fine, she thinks. This is totally fine.

There’s a distinct cough, and the feeling of claws pressing lightly into her leg. “Adora.”

“Oh! Right, sorry!” She scrambles off, only shrieking a little as she does. She tries to ignore Catra’s snicker as she straightens her jacket, smoothening over the wrinkles.

“It’s a miracle you haven’t broken anything during training yet,” Catra drawls, lips quirked into a smirk. As if her torment is amusing to her. It probably is.

Adora winces. “Can we pretend that I was totally smooth trying to do that?”

“Not a chance.”

“You never let me have any fun."

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Catra laughs. “I’m having a blast.”

Adora shoves her then, grinning at the way Catra shrieks. “Brat.”

“What, I’m not allowed to have a little fun?”

“Not at my expense!”

“I never agreed to that,” She walks past her, throwing her a grin over her shoulder as she goes to sit at the edge of the rooftop. This was always Adora’s favorite part of all of it, this little ritual they had made for themselves; they’d sit at the edge, or lean by the railings, and look out at the chaos below them. When they were younger, they never managed to last a few minutes before their hands found each other. Adora wonders if Catra would mind if she took hers.

Adora goes to join her, before remembering. Right. The rations. There was a reason she had asked Catra to come up here with her. She digs into her pockets, throwing one of them into Catra’s lap. “Here.”

She raises an eyebrow at her, head inclining. “Where’d you get this?”

“Oh, uh, I just found them,” She says, the lie spilling out almost too easily. She doesn’t know why she even bothered — Catra can always tell when she’s lying.

“Yeah, no,” She flips the ration in her hand, giving her a skeptical look that would have Kyle trembling in his boots. “Try again.”

She tries not to grimace. “Didn’t buy that, did you?”

“It’s like you didn’t even try.”

Adora does grimace this time, squeezing her eyes shut as she nods. “It’s nothing,” She says, almost too nonchalantly. There’s no way Catra would buy that either. It’s not that she didn’t want to tell Catra, because she did — she always wanted to share everything with her. She didn’t just think she should share this with her.

Adora had always gotten a little more leeway when it came to, well, everything. As long as her scores were good, as long as she was good, she was allowed things the other cadets could only dream of. It’s where she got her jacket, bright red and so different from anything anyone else wore. It’s where Catra had gotten her bodysuit too.

It was suffocating sometimes, knowing all of it could just be ripped away from her if Adora messed up and ruined everything, if she didn’t live up to what Shadow Weaver had worked so hard to cultivate. But, she liked it, for the most part. Of course she did. What kind of person would she be if she was ungrateful for something like this?

She shrugs as she continues, “I just — they always serves the gray ones or,” She lets out a shudder here, “Ugh, the brown ones. I just wanted to surprise you.”

Catra’s brows raise, her mouth dropping open in surprise. “Oh. Uh, thanks. I guess.”

She smirks. “You guess?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“I don’t know, Catra,” She teases, relishing in the way she scowls. Catra was so easy sometimes. “I risked my life to get you these,” At this, Adora clutches a hand to her chest, faking a gasp, “I think I deserve a thank you.”

“I did thank you.”

“After all that work, that’s the thanks I get?”

“Yep,” She says, popping the p.

“Catra.”

“Ugh, fine. Thank you, Adora, for taking on this very dangerous mission that I didn’t ask you to do at all. I have no idea what I would’ve done without you.”

Adora bites her lip to keep herself from laughing. “You’re so welcome, Catra. What else are friends for?”

Catra’s smile flickers for a second, before she smirks, eyes gleaming. “Hold on. You didn’t steal these, did you?”

She mimes zipping her lips shut. “Sorry, I told you. My lips are sealed.”

“Idiot,” She rolls her eyes, her lips pressing together. To anyone else, she would seem annoyed, exasperated, but Adora has always known her too well for that. She grins at the smile Catra is clearly trying to hide; she’d do anything to get her to smile at her, open and bright, completely unabashed.

Catra holds out her hand, meeting her eyes with a raised brow. “Well?” She says, impatient. “Don’t tell me you didn’t take more than one.”

“Of course not," She says, dropping two, then three, rations into her palm. "What do you take me for?”

“I don’t think you want me to answer that,” Catra wrinkles her nose at the way Adora shoves the ration bar into her mouth, flicking some of her own into Adora’s face. “So,” She starts, lightly knocking their shoulders together. “Why’d you drag me up here, anyway?”

“I didn’t drag you.”

“Yes, you did! You kept whining about how there was something you wanted to show me —“

“I was asking, Catra, how is that whining —“

“— And then,” She continues, speaking over her like a brat, “you drag me up here and nothing’s even here.”

Adora pouts. “I was not whining.”

“Adora,” She says, her tone verging on petulant. “Why are we here?”

“I don’t know! I just,” I wanted to spend time with you, she thinks. Adora doesn’t dare say that out loud. It feels as though she’s crossing a line just thinking it. “I needed some air,” is what she settles on. It still feels wrong, like it’s skipping over the true crux of the issue.

“That still doesn’t explain why you hauled me up here.”

“I didn’t —“ When she looks back at Catra, she’s smirking at her, fondly, in that way she does when she’s trying to mess with her. Adora smiles despite herself. “You’re such an asshole.”

Catra’s smirk widens. “Bet you regret dragging me up here now.”

“I could never. I’m kind of stuck with you now, you know.”

“More like I’m stuck with you.”

Adora grins. “You like me.”

“You wish.”

Adora bumps their shoulders together before lifting her own into a shrug. “You seemed like you needed some air too.”

That gets her a scowl, but Adora knows her well enough to know it’s not at her. She remembers how stiff Catra was after training, barely managing to hold off a sneer as Shadow Weaver had scolded them earlier. “I didn’t need air,” Catra says, tail lashing behind her, “I just needed to claw Shadow Weaver’s dumb face off.”

“You’re kind of just proving my point, you know,” After a moment, Adora sighs, following Catra’s gaze as she looks past the horizon, the dark red of the skyline illuminating everything in its path.

“Look, I’m sorry,” She says. Adora still can’t think about what happened during training without feeling sick to her stomach. She had tried her best to ignore the way Shadow Weaver had looked at her, at both of them, the disappointment rolling off her in waves. Even then, Adora hadn’t been able to stop the tears that sprung in her eyes or the ever-present cycle of You should’ve been better repeating in her head. “I didn’t mean for all that to happen.”

Catra looks at her then, her eyes narrowing. “Why are you sorry?”

“I was the one who wasn't paying attention. If it hadn’t been for me —”

“It’s not your fault she has a stick up her ass,” Catra cuts off. “I bet she’d find any reason to make sure I never leave this place.” 

“Hey,” Adora says, reaching for Catra’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “You know it’s always gonna be you and me, right? I’m never gonna just leave you here,” Catra smiles at that, soft and earnest in a way she rarely is. It reminds Adora of when they first met and Catra had grasped her hand as she had resolutely said to Shadow Weaver, with the utmost seriousness a four-year-old can give, This is my Catra.

It’s silent as they just watch, with nothing but the harsh screech of the skiffs leaving the Fright Zone to break it, Catra’s thumb rubbing small circles on Adora’s skin. When she speaks again, her voice is soft, contemplative, as if she’s reluctant to break the quiet. “You ever think about going up in the world?”

“What, you mean being Force Captain?”

“No, I mean, going up in the world and crushing the Princesses,” She says. They used to stay up late and talk about that, curled up in her bunk, their hands clasped together, making up stories of what they’d do when they were older, stronger, and how they would take over everything. Looking back, the stories are a bit ridiculous, childish, but Adora remembers how much she had loved them. She always looked forward to those talks with Catra. Her grip on Adora’s hand tightens. “If you ruled the world, what would you do?”

Adora moves her free hand to rest it on top of Catra’s. “I’d have you with me,” She says.

She scoffs and bumps their shoulders together. “Oh, come on. I’m serious.”

“So am I! What, you think I’d be fine with saving Etheria without you by my side?” She can’t really imagine a world where Catra isn’t beside her, watching her back. She doesn’t think she wants to.

“Besides that,” She says, dismissively. “What would you do?”

“I don’t know,” Adora sighs. “I just want to find out more.”

“About what?” She asks.

“About everything. There’s so much we don’t know. And I think I want to find out with you.”

Catra raises an eyebrow at that, as if this is a surprise and not the thing they've spent their whole lives waiting for. "You do?"

"Of course I do."

"That's kind of sad, you know," She holds up a ration bar and waves it around, dodging with ease as Adora makes a grab for it, "I mean I'm only here for the free stuff."

"Oh, give me that," She laughs, getting on her knees to wrestle it from her grasp. Catra shoves at her cheek and she pins both of her wrists in her hand with ease. "You are such a brat," She lets out a victorious squeal as she takes it from her hands and Catra tugs at her ponytail in retaliation.

"What? I’m not doing anything. I'm just embarrassed for you!"

"Right," Adora smirks. "That's totally why you followed me up here.”

"I have no idea what you're talking about," She says haughtily. "I was dragged up here against my will."

She laughs again, letting go of her wrists. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

Catra grins, and her hands move to Adora's hips, pushing her back on the ground. She feels her heart stop and stutter as she settles back down, grabbing the stray rations that got disturbed during the scuffle. "Get back down before you fall, idiot," She says.

"What, are you worried about me?" She teases. It's easier to focus on that than the feel of Catra's hands on her hips, the fond roll of her eyes as she looked at her.

"No," Adora snorts, "I told you, I don't need you doing something stupid and breaking your neck."

"You know,” She says, resting her head on Catra’s shoulder. “It’s really sweet that you're so worried about me."

"I don't even know why I bother with you.”

It’s quiet for a moment as they just sit like that, their arms linked together as Catra lightly drags her claws along Adora’s knee, her touch light enough that it doesn’t rip the fabric. Her voice is soft when she speaks again, "You know I do too."

Adora looks up at her with a frown. "You what?"

"You know," She waves a hand dismissively, "I wouldn't mind finding out what it's like with you, or whatever."

Her lips twitch up into a smile and she feels like her heart is bursting, like she's filled to the brim with it, with Catra and that feeling that burns through her, like a caress. “Yeah?” 

“Of course, dummy,” A mischievous gleam flashes in her eyes and she smirks. “You know I can’t wait to get out of here.”

Adora rolls her eyes. “I’m sure that’s the only reason.”

“Duh,” She goes to press a claw to Adora's forehead, shrieking with laughter as she bats her hand away, "What, did you think this was about you or something?”

“Right, I forgot,” She casts an almost mournful look at the stack of ration bars on Catra's lap. “For some reason, I thought you liked me or something.”

“I tolerate you," She says. "Honestly, you should know better by now.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” She smiles as Catra wordlessly passes over one of her rations. “What about you? What would you do if you ruled the world?”

“It’s dumb,” Catra says dismissively, which isn’t really an answer.

She tangles their fingers together again. “It’s not.”

“Ugh, I don’t know,” She lifts a shoulder. “I just, yeah, I can’t wait to get out of this place,” She says this with a scoff, casting a scathing look to the Forge behind them, “But, I want to be remembered as something other than this. I don’t want to be just another faceless soldier.”

“You won’t,” Adora promises. “We’re gonna get to do so much.”

“Oh, will we?” Catra smirks. 

“Of course we will. It’s going to be great, I just know it.”

“Because you suddenly know everything?” She teases. She flicks some of her ration bar in Adora’s face and she laughs as she wipes it away.

It’s almost too much, overwhelming in the best way possible, to think about her and Catra, liberating Etheria and exploring the world together, just like they’ve always talked about.

She’s not exactly sure what they’ll find out there — all she knows is that she wants to experience it with Catra. She wants to experience everything with her, until there’s nothing left of them, until they’re old and weary and they have faded into laugh lines and old eyes that tell stories in them without having to say a word. Just her and Catra, until the end of the world. Until forever.

“Not everything,” Adora smiles. “Just you and me.”

━━━━━

When Adora was young, she used to think nothing could hold a candle to Catra’s eyes.

They were bright and bold and mesmerizing — like nothing Adora had ever seen before.

They had glowed when she first met Catra, narrowing as Adora walked closer and closer to her, plopping down next to her. Catra had stared at her as Adora had talked, about everything and nothing at all.

Adora had laughed and eventually Catra had smiled.

Looking back, she thinks that was probably the beginning of everything.

Catra isn't as Adora had first known her — sharp and curious, bouncing around the Fright Zone with her hand in hers, all boundless energy and playful smiles — then again, she hasn't been as Adora had first known her for a long time.

Still, Adora will cling to that Catra, as if nothing had changed. That is how Adora chooses to remember her.

It’s her choice, she thinks, and it’s the only choice she has, because what’s left? Remembering her, volatile and corrupted, one half of her body blackened and burning? Remembering her smirk as she had stared into her eyes as she pulled that lever? What kind of a choice is that?

No, this is how she will remember her: Catra, the one who pulls her off the ledge, the one who slides her a ration bar that Adora didn't even have to ask for her way, the one who patches her up when no one else would, hands gentle — she was always so gentle with her, soft in a way no one else got to see; she had always wanted to ask what she had done to deserve that — even as the rest of her was not.

This is what she will remember. Not the smirk, not the claws, not the face of the girl who never hesitates to dangle her off the edge, but this. This is her Catra. This is a kindness she has given herself. This is just another lie she tells to get through the day. Maybe it’s both; maybe it’s neither. She’s always been good at pretending, smothering her feelings before they have a chance to find her — to set her alight. She is both the fire and the extinguisher. 

She won't think of the girl falling off the platform, of the white-green eyes rolling and piercing and looking nothing like she knows.

She won't let herself think of dead words, of petty and selfish love, of you broke my heart.

Especially that.

So, Adora does what she always does. She pushes it down. She denies it a voice.

She doesn’t have any other choice.

━━━━━

Adora can hear the hushed whispers of Glimmer and Bow as she leaves the medical bay. The door opens with a swish as the ship jolts again, sending her flying, and Adora grasps at the wall to try and keep her footing.

Both Glimmer and Bow are clutching at the Captain’s chair; one of her hands is curled around the arm of the chair in a death grip, while the other clutches one of Entrapta’s pigtails to keep herself upright. She quickly loses her grip, falling into the chair and Entrapta gives a yelp as she’s yanked back.

Glimmer groans. “I thought you said you fixed this?”

“I did!" Entrapta says, brandishing her blowtorch like a trophy. "Or at least I thought I did. Oh, breaking into Horde Prime’s ship must have done more damage to her than I thought!”

“Okay, well, you don’t have to sound so excited about it,” She mutters. The ship shakes again and Glimmer lets out another groan.

“I’ve always wanted to know more about how Darla works. The technology they used on her is like nothing I’ve ever seen,” Glimmer sends her a look and she beams, setting her blowtorch down. “I’ll have it fixed in no time,” Entrapta assures, picking up a wrench before bouncing out of the room.

Glimmer just sighs as she goes, looking over to Bow and getting up when she notices Adora at the back of the room. “Hey! We were just wondering where you were.”

Bow grimaces at a very distinct clang from the other room, followed by a gasp of delight. “Darla didn’t wake you, did she?”

“Bow, it’s a ship.”

“I know!” He says. “Still, it feels weird to call her anything else.”

Adora bites down a laugh at the look of dismay on Glimmer’s face. “No, I was already awake. I was checking up on Catra.”

Bow sighs in that I'm-not-mad-I'm-just-disappointed way of his. It makes her feel like she’s about to get scolded. “Adora.”

She winces. “I know, okay? I just had to make sure.”

Glimmer frowns, looking at the door that leads to the rest of the ship. She had checked up on Catra yesterday, while Bow and Adora were helping Entrapta with repairs. She had come back with tears in her eyes and a look that had been steeped in grief, an expression you only see when there's something to mourn — She would know, she had been mourning something she hadn't known the name of for years. Neither Bow or Adora had had the heart to ask. “Is she still the same?” She asks.

Adora rests her arms on the back of the chair, leaning against it. “Nothing’s really changed," She thinks. It’s not like there’s a manual on She-Ra’s healing. She’s not completely sure how any of this works — she hasn’t done this before. “I don’t know, I’m not really an expert at this. Entrapta doesn’t really know when she’s going to recover. And I know we have to get back to Etheria as soon as possible but I —“

“Hey,” Glimmer says. She puts a reassuring hand on Adora’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Catra needs to rest. Honestly, we all do.”

“But, Prime —“

“Can wait,” She continues, giving her a stern look; it reminds Adora a bit too much of Angella. “Besides, we’re not getting anywhere until we can get the ship running again.”

Adora nods. “Right. You’re right,” She bites the inside of her cheek before sighing, “You didn’t see what she was like. On the ship. I don’t even know if She-Ra can fix all of that.”

“It’s gonna take some time,” Bow says. “But, nothing’s going to happen to her, okay? She’s safe.”

Glimmer hesitates before asking, “What happened with Catra, anyway? You still haven’t said.”

“You saw what happened, Glimmer.”

“We saw what happened after. We still don’t know what happened back there. Or how She-Ra is even back.”

“It’s complicated,” Adora says, which is really code for I don’t really get it either so please don’t make me explain. “It just...happened.”

Glimmer raises an eyebrow. “You just happened to summon an-eight-foot tall warrior princess?”

“Uh, yes?”

Glimmer opens her mouth to say something but a loud crash from the other room stops her, making them all jump and spin around to look at the door. Entrapta. She lets out a groan and runs her hands down her face. “I’m gonna go check on her. Someone needs to make sure she’s not destroying the ship or something.”

“She wouldn’t destroy it,” Bow says. "At least not on purpose. She and Darla have a bond.”

Adora grimaces. “Please don’t say that.”

He ignores her. “Just make sure she’s safe. I don't think she wants a repeat of what happened last time. We definitely don't need another Entrapta-in-deep-space situation.”

"She was —”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“Tell me about it later,” She grins, rolling her eyes a little. Adora lets out a little snort at the way Glimmer steels herself, rolling her shoulders back. “Okay,” She sounds like she’s preparing to launch herself off the ship, “Alright, let’s do this.”

Bow laughs lightly before his face turns serious, a somberness working its way to the edge of his smile. She knows he’s remembering the last time Glimmer and Entrapta had been around each other, before her betrayal, before, well, everything. “Try and be patient with her, okay? Entrapta and Darla can be a deadly combination.”

“Don’t ask me to keep promises you know I can’t keep,” She smirks, heading for the door. Adora watches as Bow stares after her, a fond look in his eyes even as the door slides shut behind her.

She just barely manages to hide her smirk. Only barely. “So,” Adora starts, with all the subtlety of an imploding skiff. “You and Glimmer.”

“Me and Glimmer?” Adora waggles her eyebrows and Bow ducks his head, embarrassed. “It’s not like that.”

“Uh-huh,” She grins. “That was a nice try. You know for a second there I almost believed you.”

Bow laughs, settling in on the Captain’s chair. Adora goes to sit next to him, perching herself up on the armrest. “I’m serious. There is no me and Glimmer,” Adora snorts at that, completely undignified.

They had talked about this before, back when they were working on Mara’s ship and losing sleep with every passing day. Bow had told her about Glimmer, about everything, telling her things that she had already long since known and some things she hadn’t already. There were things Adora had wanted to confess to him too, but she hadn’t; she couldn’t. She thinks Bow already knows though, with the way he had looked at her after he and Glimmer had promised to help save Catra. There was too much understanding in his eyes for him not to know.

Bow tugs at her wrist and Adora scoots down so he can rest his head on her arm. “It’s a work in progress,” He says, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But, I’ve missed her. A lot.”

She returns the smile and it makes her cheeks ache a bit; it's the smile of someone who hasn't smiled this wide, this free, in quite some time.

It feels nice, having them back with her again, even if it’s different than it was before. It’s almost as though the pieces of her life are falling back into place. “Yeah, me too,” She watches as he stares at the stars as they shine their way through Darla’s windows. Her voice is quiet, as though she’s sharing something sacred when she asks, “Are you ever gonna tell her?”

He looks up at her. “Are you ever going to tell her?”

Adora finds herself looking away from him; his eyes, always so kind and understanding even when Adora doesn’t deserve it, are unbearable to look at right now. “That’s different.”

“It is?” He asks.

“Catra and I aren’t — “ She stops herself. They aren’t what? Together? In love? It doesn’t matter, Adora thinks to herself. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like she could even do anything about it. Etheria is at war. The entire universe is at war. The world doesn’t stop just because Adora doesn’t know how to keep herself from wanting.

“Glimmer cares about you,” Catra sacrificed her life to save you, a voice says in her head. Adora ignores it.

“I mean, you should’ve seen her after we got her back. All she wanted was to make it up to you,” It's meant to be a comfort, a reassurance, but the words come out strained and all she can hear is She said she was doing it for you and All she ever wanted was you coursing through her like the blood rushing in her ears, like the sharp edge of a knife.

She feels tears well up in her eyes but she can't let them fall. She won't. “I know you’re not there yet but,” The breath that leaves her mouth is shaky, her voice at the edge of shattering, and she feels a tear slid down her cheek. Damn it. Calm down, she thinks. She starts again, “You should go for it. You’ve been through enough.”

“Adora."

She ignores him, she ignores how her hands shake and how her cheeks are wet with tears. She pushes on. “I mean, you spent all this time so angry at her and you finally got her back,” She feels a sob shaking through her and she tries to breath through it, to push it down like she’s used to but she can’t. “You should tell her. You deserve to be happy.”

“Adora,” He gets up from the chair to sweep her into a hug. “It’s okay,” He says. She cries harder. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” He repeats. They sit like that for a while, Bow rubbing her back as Adora cries and cries, her shakes bordering on convulsions now, unable to stop herself. She prays that no one comes in through the door; she doesn’t think she could handle anyone else seeing her like this.

It feels like years before Bow finally speaks again, his voice muffled from where it’s burrowed into her jacket, “You deserve to be happy too.”

Adora doesn’t say anything to that. People don’t need her to be happy, they need her to be focused, they need her to save them. What does happiness matter in the face of that?

“You do,” He says. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with Prime but you can’t just sit around waiting for the war to end. You deserve more than that,” He hugs her tighter. “After everything that’s happened, you deserve to be happy. With whoever you want.”

She doesn’t, Adora thinks. She doesn’t. There are things more important than that, more important than her. She doesn’t know how to tell him that. She just cries harder.

━━━━━

The door to Catra’s room is already open by the time Adora gets there.

The First One's paneling envelops the room in light, making the hard edges of the wall seem almost electrified. It’s messy — messier than Adora remembers, with blankets and pillows strewn along the floor.

In the center of it, is Catra. She sits beneath the chaos, sprawled on the floor as her hands dig into something behind her neck. The chip, she thinks with a pang.

“Catra,” Her ears twitch, and her tail lashes behind her, but she doesn’t give any other indication that she’s heard her. She just keeps digging. “Catra, hey,” She says. “Hey, you’re safe. It’s okay.”

Her claws extend and Adora winces as she hears the sound of flesh being cut into. “Stop it,” She whispers, her voice hoarse.

“Catra,” She doesn’t say anything. Adora pushes down the urge to reach out and hug her, to cup her face and run her thumbs gently across the apples of her cheeks the way she used to when they were kids. She knows that's the last thing Catra needs right now. “Can you look at me?”

Her eyes lock with hers, tail bristling almost in apprehension. It’s a start. “Can you tell me what’s happening?”

After what seems like hours, she says, “There’s a machine,” Her voice is hollow, blank in a way Adora has never heard. It terrifies her, she realizes. It makes her want to destroy Prime with nothing but her bare hands.

“Just like the one in his lab and — there’s this tube attached and,” Her claws unlatch from the back of her neck, blood smearing everywhere, to clutch at her throat desperately, as though she’s being choked. “He just keeps doing it. I can’t move or breathe or — he keeps doing it.”

“Okay,” She tries to keep her voice calm, neutral, leaving it void of all the rage Adora can feel swelling through her. “Can you tell me where you are?”

“The ship,” Her eyes are wide, terrified, as she looks Adora up and down, taking her in. She probably looks a mess, her sleep clothes wrinkled, her shirt hiking up her stomach, and her hair no doubt sticking up in all directions. Catra’s voice is clearer as she says, “You saved me.”

Adora sighs in relief. “Yeah, I did. I came back for you.”

“When was that?” Catra asks urgently.

“It’s been a couple of days. Entrapta was worried about you after, um," She rubs the back of her neck at this, "After everything so we took you to the med bay. Just to make sure everything's alright."

“Right,” She shakes her head, as if trying to clear it. She looks away from her as she closes her hands into a fist, shaking slightly. “Right,” Catra repeats.

“You’re safe, Catra. No one’s going to hurt you here,” I won’t let them. Adora leaves that part unspoken; she doesn’t think Catra would appreciate her saying that out loud.

She nods, once, then twice, looking at her claws almost distantly. “Thanks,” Catra says gruffly.

“Are you okay?”

She half expects Catra to scowl at her, to sneer and turn away from her like she’s done the last few times Adora has visited. What she doesn’t expect is for Catra’s shoulders to sag, fatigue rolling off her in waves. Adora doesn’t think she’s ever seen her this tired.

“Have you been sleeping?”

Catra gives her a look. They both know she hasn’t. “What do you think?”

“Right. Sorry.”

A loose strands falls into her face, and Adora watches as her breath comes out in short, raspy bursts as she shoves it back with a shaky hand. “Is this what it’s like for you?” Catra asks.

“What?”

“Healing,” Her claws twist through the blankets as she talks, and Adora can just barely make out the blood staining her fingers. She makes a note to find her another blanket. “Is this what it feels like for you?”

She-Ra’s healing has always been complicated. It’s a deep, almost unbearable ache that sinks its way into your bones. It’s the kind of pain that has teeth, that sets everything ablaze like a fire to a forest. Adora’s never really minded it though. She appreciates it for what it is: a catalog of who she has bled for and who she has not; a directory of her failures. She likes the reminder. “Yeah,” She nods. “It is.”

Catra just stares at her. A cloud of horror spreads across her face before it shifts to desperation. “I didn’t know that.”

“Would it have changed anything if you had?”

“I don’t know.”

Adora nods again, crossing the room to sit beside Catra. She doesn’t say anything to that, because, really, what can she? Her fingers curl around Catra’s wrist, her touch light as she goes to examine the wound at the base of her neck. It’s deeper than she thought, she realizes. “How bad is it?”

“I’m fine,” Catra says.

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’m fine, Adora.”

Just leave it. Right. She can take a hint. “Okay,” She says. She doesn’t ask Catra if she wants her to bandage it — she's pretty sure she already knows her answer. She watches as Catra runs a hand through her hair with a grimace. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” Catra snaps. “It’s just in the way.”

“Can’t you just push it back?”

“No!" Panic flashes through her eyes before it briskly disappears, as if it were never there. "No, I can’t do that,” She lets out a frustrated groan, sinking her claws into her neck again. Adora grabs her hand before she can draw too much blood.

“Catra, stop.”

“Or what?”

Adora doesn’t let go of her hand. “That’s not gonna help and you know it.”

“It could get it out.”

“Or it could kill you,” She argues. Catra makes a dismissive noise in the back of her throat. “Come on. You promised you wouldn’t do that anymore.”

“I just want it off,” She says, snatching her hand back with a scowl.

“Maybe Entrapta can get it off? I can go —“

“No," Catra snorts derisively. "Not happening.”

“Catra —“

“No, alright? I’m not really in the mood to get paralyzed.”

“She wouldn’t paralyze you.”

“Paralyze, kill — it really matters what word I use?” Catra’s hand goes to rub at the back of her neck, only narrowly missing the blood on her neck. “She’s not taking the chip out. I don’t want her anywhere near me.”

“It’s not like that’s any more dangerous than trying to get it out yourself.”

“That’s not what I’ve been doing.”

Adora sighs, wringing her hands together. She wishes she would just let her help. “Then what have you been doing? Trying to dig a hole in your neck?”

Catra scoffs. “No, thanks, one is more than enough.”

That makes her stop. Adora never let herself think about everything Prime must have done to her. She had been pristine, calm, as she had walked towards that throne but Adora knew the journey had been anything but — she knew he had clawed inside her mind and twisted it for nothing but amusement, for no reason but because he could. She couldn’t let her mind wander down that path, not without wanting to drive her sword through Prime’s neck until he was lifeless, barely breathing like Catra had been, suffering, as she had.

She jumps when she feels a hand rest on hers. When she looks up, Catra’s staring at her, her expression carefully blank.

“What’s with you?” She asks gruffly, sounding almost worried. She tightens her grasp on Adora’s hand. “Your brain damage giving you trouble again?”

She stares at the way their hands interlink, Catra’s claws sheathed as they curl around Adora’s palm. Her fingers twitch with the desire to turn her hand around, and lace their fingers together, the sheer enormity of it sending her reeling.

She doesn’t. Catra snatches her hand back not even a moment later.

“I didn’t mean to,” Make it all about me, she thinks. She scoffs, more to herself than anything else. It doesn’t matter. There are more important things that deserve her attention than this. Focus, Adora, she tells herself. This isn’t what you came here to do. “Sorry,” She says. “I don’t want to push but —“

She snorts at that. “When has that ever stopped you before?”

“I’m trying not to anymore,” She whispers. “That was never fair, for either of us.”

“No,” Catra bites out. “It wasn’t.”

“We don’t have to decide about Entrapta right now if you don’t want to,” She fidgets with the hem of her nightshirt. She just wants to help her in any way she can. She wants to make all of this right. “But you can’t keep doing this, Catra. You’re only going to get yourself hurt.”

She narrows her eyes at her, and Adora’s terrified, for a moment, that she’ll tell her to leave. “You still don’t get it,” She says. “It’s not about the chip.”

“You don’t want to get the chip off?”

“That’s not — You’re not listening to me, Adora.”

“Because you haven’t explained," She says. "Just talk to me, Catra. I only want to help.”

“Did you ever think that maybe I don’t want your help?”

“Then what do you want?” Adora asks.

It's silent for a moment as Catra gapes at her, her claws twisting and slashing at the blankets. “I just want it off,” She says.

“I know,” She says.

“No,” And whatever shock was hidden in her eyes is gone, replaced by an amalgam of dread and fury. “You don’t. You don’t get it, Adora. You think you have any idea of what this is like? I don’t — ” Her anger breaks off into something deeper, something even more terrifying as her lip trembles and she curls her claws into her palm.

It’s been too long since Adora’s seen her with that expression — it's the look of someone trying not to let their sorrow flow from them like a river. Adora had almost forgotten what she looked like when she was trying not to cry. “I don’t want you to get it. I just want it off. I want all of it off,” Catra seethes, her voice breaking. She’s shaking again, and this time she doesn't seem to stop herself as tears slip down her cheeks. “I can’t look like this anymore,” She says, and Adora gets the distinct feeling she’s talking to herself. “I just can’t.”

She’s silent as she watches her curl into herself even further. “Is that why you cut up your neck?”

Her head shakes. “You don’t get it.”

“I could cut it,” It’s not quite a question, but it’s close to it. It’s as close to one that she thinks Catra would be able to accept. “If you want.” Maybe she can’t help like she used to, she can’t take this away from her, no matter how much she wants to. But, maybe she can do this.

“What?”

Adora nods to the loose dark strands that curl into her face. “Your hair,” She explains. “I can cut it for you, if that would help.”

“Why?”

She sighs, shifting on the bed. If Catra notices how she moves closer to her, then she doesn’t mention it. “You’re right. I don’t get it. I don’t really think I can. But I still want to help, Catra.”

Catra shakes her head, like she can’t believe what she’s hearing. “But, why?”

“I like you better with bangs,” She teases, trying to pull a smile from her. Catra just looks at her, a frown finding its way onto her lips. Adora clears her throat, awkwardly. “If you don’t want me to then —“

“I didn’t say that,” She says, with a bite. “Maybe I just don’t like the idea of you holding a sharp object so close to my neck.”

Adora scoffs. “What am I gonna do, stab you?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Adora tries to school her face into something other than outrage. Judging by the scowl Catra gives her, she’s not that successful. “Okay, I‘ve never actually stabbed you.”

“Oh, because throwing a sword at me is so much better?”

“So, what, you trust me enough to give you a haircut but not enough to, I don’t know, not stab you?”

“That’s not —“ Catra pauses, stops herself.

Adora looks her over, watching as she rubs at her shoulder. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” She scoffs. “Just do it,” She closes her eyes, sighing as if she’s been given this great burden. “I want you to do it.”

Adora’s ashamed of the blush that rises to her cheeks at those words, her heart hammering in her chest almost in fear. Catra didn’t mean it like that — she knows that, she does, she’s not stupid. Catra has never wanted her like that. That’s what Adora has been telling herself for years.

Except she does. Horde Prime told her. Adora can push down a lot of what happened that night, but not that. It lingers, like smoke, like a shadow. It haunts her, like any good thing does.

Adora wills the thought down anyway. She can deal with it another time.

“I really don’t have to, you know," She says gently. "I know it always annoyed you when someone touched your hair.”

“Adora. It’s fine.” She makes a disgusted noise in the back of her throat, turning away from Adora once again. “I didn’t care.”

Adora blinks. “What?”

“If it was you," She explains, her gritted tone completely at odds with the warmth of her words. "I never minded when it was you.”

“Oh,” Adora says, a little bit giddy. “Okay,” A hand goes to rest on Catra’s shoulder, and she lets her thumb trace a gentle pattern there. She doesn’t say anything for a moment. It still feels like she’s confessing something. “You’re sure?” 

She can practically hear Catra’s eye roll. “Just get it over with before I change my mind.”

“Right! Right,” Adora stumbles over to the medical cabinets, opening them with frantic urgency as she looks for a pair of scissors or something that’ll help her. She definitely remembers watching Entrapta use a pair a couple of days ago.

“Come on," She says. "Uh, come on, where are you,” She tosses a roll of gauze on the floor, before pulling out a pair from the back of the cabinet. “Yes! I knew they were in here somewhere!”

When she turns back around, Catra is staring at her, her expression unreadable. “What?”

Catra blinks at her slowly, before her face screws up in disgust. “Nothing,” She scoffs. “It’s just, you really haven’t changed.”

The laugh she lets out is more of a squeak than anything else, high-pitched and tinged with nerves. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

“Ask me again tomorrow.”

She smiles at that, her heart thudding violently against her chest; it makes her feel like she’s fifteen again, trying to understand why just being around Catra makes her stomach twist and turn and her mouth go all dry. Knowing Catra has always been a lesson of self-discovery.

Adora is silent as she sits next to her again, twirling the scissors around to give her hands something to do. She looks at Catra, at the sharp line of her jaw, the freckles that splatter across her cheeks like constellations. Her voice is quiet when she says, “Hey, Catra?”

“What?”

“Thanks,” Adora says. “For trusting me with this.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I have any other options. Who else am I gonna ask, Sparkles?”

“I’m sure Wrong Hordak would love to give you a haircut.”

Catra wrinkles her nose. “Uh, what?”

“Wrong Hordak,” Adora says, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. “He was one of Prime’s clones.”

“You brought a clone in here?”

“Bow and Entrapta found him,” She explains, setting the scissors down as her hands raise in surrender. “They accidentally unplugged him from Prime’s server. Or something,” She rubs the back of her neck, a little sheepishly, “I’m still not 100% sure how it works.”

“The hive mind,” Catra holds her tail, almost protectively, smoothening her hands down the fur. “That’s what — I can’t believe you let a clone onto this ship.”

“He’s not connected to it anymore, Catra. He’s not going to hurt anyone. We’re safe,” You’re safe, Adora wants to reassure. She doesn’t. She hopes Catra understands the message anyway.

“Right,” She scoffs. “A clone. Honestly, I forgot what a bleeding heart you are.”

“Okay, it’s not like it was my idea,” She says. Adora reaches out to touch her, before stopping herself. “Sorry,” She whispers. “Can I?”

“Yeah.”

The cut of her hair is uneven, almost choppy, as if someone had cut it sloppily with a knife, stopping just above the chip lodged in her neck. Alright, Adora thinks as she settles a hand on Catra’s shoulder. She can start there.

She slips the scissors back into her hands, only barely resisting the urge to run her fingers over the scars that mar the back of her neck. Some of them are recent, still red and bloody from when she had just clawed at herself. Others, though, seem like they’re months old, years old, and already healed. Adora doesn’t recognize any of them.

She’s gentle as she cuts it away, trying to make it as neat as possible, careful to avoid the chip. “I’m sorry,” She whispers.

A laugh, bitter and harsh, cuts through the silence. “No.”

“No?”

“You don’t get to be sorry about this,” Catra snaps, spinning around. Adora reels her hand back. “The last thing I want right now is your pity.”

“When have I ever pitied you?” Adora asks.

“That’s your whole thing, isn’t it? That’s just what you do.”

“That’s why I do what I do?” Adora asks incredulously. “Really? Pity?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you were doing it out of the goodness of your heart,” She says. “No one can handle anything themselves around you, Adora. There’s always someone that you think needs to be saved,” Her face is inches away from her own and she feels her breath catch. “You never give a shit about what anyone actually wants.”

“You think I did all that because you couldn’t handle it?” She sputters out.

“I think,” She says, prodding Adora’s chest with a claw, “that there’s always another angle with you. I think I told you what would happen if you went there,” A sneer falls onto her face and Adora doesn’t know if she’s getting chastised for not listening to her or for saving her. “And you went anyway.”

“What did you expect me to do?” Adora scowls. She angrily cuts off a strand that had curled below the base of her ears. “Just go, ‘Oh, thank you, Catra, for that convenient warning,’ and then just, what, never see you again?”

“Uh, yeah, pretty much! Do you not get what a trap is? I get your ego is a little hard to put down sometimes but what fucking reason did you have to come back?”

“Because I didn’t want to leave you there,” Adora grits out. Her hands tighten reflexively on Catra’s hair and she hisses. She smoothes her fingers through the dark strands in apology. “I wasn’t thinking about what you could handle,” She says.

“Obviously.”

Adora bites back another groan of frustration. “You honestly think I did that because I pitied you? I was worried, Catra. I had no fucking idea where you were and then all of a sudden you just —” She sighs, takes a breathe. Not the time, Adora. “I was just so worried. That was it. Since when are those the same thing?”

Catra is still when she bites out, “For you, they might as well be.”

She clenches her jaw before letting her hand fall to her shoulder. “All those times, that’s why you thought I wanted you to leave?”

“Why else would you?”

“Because,” Adora starts, “Because you’re Catra,” And that is an answer in itself. Catra has always been something else, something more to her, something entirely indescribable. “You were my —“ She stops herself. Catra must notice the way Adora’s hand stills, and she can hear her breath hitch.

“I was your what?”

Her face burns. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Your what, Adora?”

“It doesn’t matter,” She says, pleading. It makes her feel sick, for a moment, the idea of that being known, being said out loud, makes her want to tear her skin off. It doesn’t matter what Catra would think of that — Adora’s already pretty sure she knows just what Catra would think of that particular thought — that’s not the point. She’s supposed to be better than that.

Catra’s looking at her now, like she can’t decide if she wants to claw her for even bringing this up or keep her from ever stopping. She’s not really sure which it is.

“I just want to help you, Catra. You’re not on your own for this,” Adora says. She’s careful as she snips a loose strand away, admiring the way her bangs are starting to frame her face. “Can you at least let me do that?”

She scoffs, bitterly, looking away from her. “I told you. I don’t need your help or your pity, or whatever the hell this is.”

“It’s not —“

“It doesn’t matter,” Catra snaps. “It’s always the same with you. You don’t know how to help people without suffocating them.”

Adora’s hand stills. “That’s not fair.”

“Don’t talk to me about what’s fair,” She glares up at her. “I told you to stay away, didn’t I? But you didn’t listen. You never listen if it’s not what you think is best.”

“I couldn’t let you just sacrifice yourself for me.”

“Yes, you could. That was the deal,” She flinches as Adora cuts a little too closely. “You weren’t supposed to come back. You have no idea the kind of shit he was planning for you,” Her eyes flicker from the silver scissors in Adora’s hands to her eyes and then back again. “No one should have to live with something like that. Especially not you.”

“And you did?”

“I made my choice, Adora,” Catra says. Her gaze is sharp, deliberate, as she grits out, “And now I’m living with it.”

Adora doesn’t say anything to that. She keeps cutting.

━━━━━

It’s early in the morning when Adora checks on her again.

She barrels towards the brig with barely contained enthusiasm — they had moved her there yesterday, after Entrapta had cleared her over with a thumbs-up and the raise of a wrench — before quickly pressing the keypad to open the door.

She stops as it opens, looking at the back of the room where Catra is sleeping. Or, where Catra is supposed to be sleeping. The heels of her palm are pressed against her eyes, her legs shaking, as she lets out a pained whimper.

She feels along the wall, trying to find something to give the room more light, when Catra freezes, her tail bristling as she screams.

Adora holds up her hands in surrender. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” She soothes, going to sit beside Catra on her bed. “It’s just me.”

Catra turns away from her, rejecting the small smile Adora gives her with a glare of her own. She reaches out, wanting to rest her hand on Catra’s shoulder, but she thinks better of it. She clenches her fist with a sigh, letting it limply fall to her knee. That’s not what Catra needs right now. Besides, Adora doesn’t even think she’d accept it, even if she tried.

“Are you still getting the flashes?”

“Yes, I keep having this horrible vision of a blonde girl, who thinks she’s better than everyone barging into my room all day,” She snaps, turning around to give Adora a glare. Her voice is snide, mocking as she turns back around, “Oh, wait.”

Adora sighs, clenching her jaw and plastering on a bright smile she definitely doesn’t feel. “We’ll find a way to get the chip off. If you just let Entrapta take a look at it, I bet she could —”

Catra covers her face with a pillow, her hold bordering on suffocating. “I don’t want to see anyone, okay?” She says. “Not you, not Arrow Boy, or Sparkles, and definitely not Entrapta.”

“So, you’re just gonna hide in here forever? You’ll have to face them sometime.”

“No, I don’t. Just drop me off on the closest planet. I’ll make my own way.”

“What, so Horde Prime can capture you again?”

“I can take care of myself.”

Adora scoffs, digging her hands into the mattress and flipping it over. Catra yells, falling to the floor. When she looks up at her, her mouth is pressed into a sneer, her eyes narrowing. “I’d promised I’d take you home,” She says, marching over to her. “And that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Why are you acting like this? We saved your life!”

Her sneer deepens as she pushes herself up. “I told you not to come back,” She says. “But you just love feeling like a hero, don’t you?”

Adora bristles. How could Catra think she would ever just leave her there like that? After everything they’ve been through together? “You’d rather I left you there to die?”

“What do you care? I know you all hate me!”

That makes Adora stop, her anger simmering to a standstill. Did she really think that? “I never hated you!”

She reels back, her breath hitching as shock flashes through her eyes before they harden again, staring at Adora as though she had said something unforgivable. “Then, you’re even dumber than I thought,” She says.

“Catra —“

“Just leave me alone.”

She pushes herself back onto the mattress, and Adora feels something desperate break in her. Things were supposed to be better. They were supposed to fix things, fix them, together.

She knows she should get angry, because she's doing it again, like nothing has even changed, but all Adora can think is No, I just got her back and I can’t lose her again. All she can feel is this blinding panic that overwhelms her, that fuels her, that sends her into overdrive. It’s that same panic that spurs her to say, "Catra. All I ever wanted was you, too.”

She freezes. “What did you just say?”

Adora gets the distinct feeling like she’s treading on a landmine. “Prime told me —”

“He told you what?”

She closes her mouth in shock, unsure of what to say. Maybe this wasn’t the right time for this. Of course this wasn’t the right time for this, she scolds herself. Of course she’s already ruined this. That’s just what she does.

(Adora is tired — she is so tired of constantly being the wrong thing. She admits this now, to herself, to the dark, because it is the only time she can. It’s the only time she will give to herself.

Sometimes, she just wishes she could be something else. If she could just purge herself from her body and become something new. Someone who knows what to say, who knows how to want. Someone infallible. Adora is nothing but a corrupted version of her own wants, her own wrongs, her own distractions.)

She doesn’t have time for this. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? She never gets to have time for this. “Look,” She tries to keep her voice calm, steady, despite it all, “That doesn’t matter right now.”

“It doesn’t matter?” Catra asks incredulously.

Adora grimaces. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You didn’t mean it like that,” Catra grits out. Her mouth is all twisted up together, like she just tasted something unpleasant. “How the hell am I supposed to take that?”

“I just meant —”

“You just meant what? That it doesn’t matter what Prime told you?”

She lets out a growl of frustration, her hands balling into fists. Deep breaths. “Would you just let me finish?”

Catra’s brows raise at that as she reels back at her tone. Her voice is mocking, sickly sweet, reminding her of all those times she had tried to distract Adora back when they were enemies. It makes her skin crawl. “By all means.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Catra opens her mouth to say something and Adora cuts her off with a look, “Of course it matters, Catra. But we can’t — we just don’t have time for this. Darla still needs to be fixed and —”

“You’re the one that brought it up,” She hisses. “What, you're really so out of it that I can’t even ask you one question without distracting you?”

“I never said you were a distraction!”

“No, you just said you don’t have time for this, which is obviously completely different, right?” Adora scoffs, shaking her head as Catra just keeps going, “If I had known you had so many more important things to be dealing with, I wouldn’t have asked. The last thing I want to do is waste your time.”

“I didn’t — We barely escaped from Prime with our lives. We would be dead if it wasn’t for She-Ra.”

“I’ll be sure to give a big thank you to your princess alter ego the next time I see her.”

“Catra,” She sighs, “We need to get that chip off.”

“I told you I don’t want it off,” And it would be funny — it is funny, in that hysterical, delirious way that makes Adora want to laugh and shake with sobs — the way she curls up on the mattress that’s completely at odds with the sharp, cutting glare she’s giving her, “Were you even listening to me when I said I didn’t want to see anyone?”

“It’s dangerous! You don’t know what that chip could be doing the longer it stays on.”

“Neither do you!”

“We can’t afford to risk it,” Adora says. “I’m sorry, Catra,” And she is, she really is. She hates that he told her, she hates how he found out.

Adora had never wanted to find out like that — and that dark and selfish part of her that she has spent so long digging into the ground wishes Catra could have just told her herself — completely helpless, without a choice for either of them. She wanted to scream her apologies to the rooftop, to the stars, but that wouldn’t help anything. She needs to do whatever she can to defeat him, not ruminate on what he’s said, what he's done; she can’t afford to get distracted.

“I wish we had the time," She says, "But with everything that's happening — it needs to take priority over what he told me about your feelings. It has to.”

Catra stiffens. “What?”

“Your feelings,” Adora explains. Her voice is small, strained, sounding foreign to her own ears as she wrings her hands together. “For, um, for me,” She looks down at her, cautiously, desperately wanting her to deny it, to say something. This would be so much easier if it weren’t real. “That’s how he knew I’d come for you, isn’t it? He knows everything about us.”

“That's what he told you?" At Adora's nod a disbelieving breath passes through her lips as her hands start to shake again. "And you just believed him? Even for you, that’s a little much,” Her words sound hollow, forced, and all the fight, all that anger, seems to collapse from within her. It’s terrifying.

She looks desperate, horrified, in a way Adora hasn’t seen since they were seven, and the tendrils of electricity from The Black Garnet were wrapping around Catra for the very first time. “He actually told you everything?”

Adora feels the color drain from her face. She didn’t know. Adora had thought — assumed like she always did — that Catra had known, in some way. Prime had used her to get to Adora. No, not Adora. She-Ra. That was the whole point of it. To find a way to get to She-Ra, the Etherian bomb. Catra hadn’t come out until Prime had beckoned her, like some plaything. She didn’t know. Fuck, Catra hadn’t known. “You didn’t know?” She asks.

“No,” And that horrified look shutters shut, as if it were never there in the first place. “I didn’t know.”

I’m sorry, she wants to say, and she does. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, she thinks and she isn’t sure if she says that aloud too; she’s too busy, too focused, thinking of what she can do, what she can fix. This situation is too raw — it’s too horrifying — to be amended with Adora’s usual intensity of care. She feels helpless and there aren’t enough words to precisely describe what she’s feeling, but she thinks I’m sorry does a damn good job. “I just thought —”

“You just thought what?”

“I thought we were on the same page,” I thought you wanted this too, she thinks, though that’s not quite the truth. There is something else, another thought, unrestrained, uninhibited, that she doesn’t allow to fully form. She can’t. “I thought you wanted to be here.”

“Adora,” There's a steeliness in her tone that tells her this is as much as she will give her. “Do you really think I could be happy here?”

She steps back, as if though she’d been slapped. Of course. She should’ve just kept her mouth shut. She shouldn’t have brought this up at all. At least then, there wouldn’t be this gaping chasm between them, threatening to bury them both alive.

She is such an idiot. Adora’s smile is brittle as she turns on her heel and walks to the door. She glances back at Catra one last time; she isn’t looking at her. Of course she isn’t. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.” She says.

Catra doesn’t say anything as the door closes behind her.

━━━━━

It’s not until Catra is grasping her hand, eyes withdrawn yet unwavering — reminding Adora so much of the Catra before, before she took to tearing the world down piece-by-piece as though it were an art form — as she asks her to do this, as she asks her to stay with her.

Her skin is pale, as her hands shake and her eyes close in pain. Adora feels the familiar ache, that panic, swell through her at the sight of it. She had made a promise to Catra, to herself, years ago that she would protect her from everything, from the world, from herself. Adora, the shield. Adora, the protector. She would save her from it all.

But as Catra looks at her, with those gold and blue eyes brimmed with fear and frustration and determination, she feels the panic wane into something subtler, into something even more gentler: trust.

She trusts Catra can do this. She believes in her. Maybe that’s something she should’ve done from the start.

So Adora does what she hadn’t done before, what she had wished she’d done. She stays.

━━━━━

Adora feels exhausted. There’s a deep ache that rushes through her, making her hands shake as she breathes in and out.

It’s painful. It’s exhilarating. Adora welcomes it, like an old friend.

She-Ra’s back. It’s about time too. She doesn’t know what she would have done with herself if she hadn’t been able to summon her again.

(This time, though, she has no reservations on why she’s back, again, after all this time. The first time she had summoned her, soaring completely on instinct, it had been a blur. Adora hadn’t been thinking about She-Ra or magic or her destiny.

All she remembers is the rage, the grief, that lit her up like a wildfire.

She hadn’t known why it had worked. She hadn’t questioned it.

Now, though, as Adora remembers the feel of Catra’s hand in hers as she grabbed her hand, the way she had sagged in relief as Adora had wrapped her arms around her as the ship shook, she knows.

She remembers Bow’s question, just a few hours ago: How did you do that without the sword?

Adora knew well enough now.)

Adora doesn’t let herself lie in the relief yet, she can’t. Even as Bow and Entrapta lay next to her, and Glimmer comes in with Wrong Hordak at her heels carrying food, all Adora can feel is this foreboding sense of dread. It feels like she’s back on that platform again, about to fall over. Even as she picks up one, she can’t shake the feeling that she’s just ruined everything.

All I ever wanted was you too. What had she been thinking? Why would she even say something like that? It had just spilled out of her, reckless and desperate and selfish.

It had felt like a relief, a weight off of her chest, to say it at the time. It had felt like a sentencing, as if she were damning herself to a fate unforgivable.

Now, all it feels like pure, unadulterated panic.

Adora is vaguely aware of voices beside her — Bow, shocked and proud; Entrapta, enthusiastic and satisfied; Wrong Hordak, confused and amiable — but she doesn’t pay any mind to it. She can’t. Thoughts of you left and all she ever wanted was you and lingering touches and hands caressing cheeks and Catra, Catra, Catra run through her mind, like the reels of one of Bow’s favorite old films.

Adora doesn’t think she wants to know how this one ends.

She tries to focus on the dinner in front of her. It doesn’t really work.

The door slides open then and everyone freezes as Catra walks in, still dressed in Adora’s clothes. She’s hesitant as she sits, a kind of unease radiating off her — one that’s so at odds with the smooth, confident gait that Adora’s gotten so used to over the past few years.

Bow and Glimmer share a look, one that Adora still doesn’t know how to decipher, even after all these years. They both move over, giving her room to sit. Catra’s ears perk up at that, her eyes flickering between Glimmer and Bow in a mixture of shock and surprise.

Adora’s heart beats wildly in her chest as she does. She needs — no, she wants — Catra to smile at her, to say something, anything, that lets her know they’re okay. Please, Adora thinks. Please tell me I haven’t ruined this.

She smiles at them, taking the food Glimmer offers her, her smile tentative and hesitant, but no less bright, stealing the breath right from Adora’s lungs.

Catra doesn’t look at her once.

━━━━━

The next time Adora sees her, she’s perched on top of the controls, her claws skating across the metal. She’s wearing that bodysuit Entrapta had made her — it’s red and black, and instead of the Horde insignia Adora has spent so long getting used to, there's an opening both across her chest and her back. It makes something in Adora’s stomach tighten and coil. 

There’s a pause as Catra stills, her claws giving one final screech against the metal before stopping altogether. “I can hear you, you know,” She says flatly. “You still haven’t learned how to be quiet.”

“Are you okay?”

“What do you think?” Her tone is biting, like she’s trying to claw out Adora’s own gentleness herself.

She doesn’t rise to the bait. “What are you doing out here?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Catra snaps. Something in her shifts, and she sighs, looking out at the stars. “I couldn’t sleep. I swear, this ship is like a death trap.”

The darkness shrouds Catra like a shadow, making her eyes seem almost incandescent in the night sky. Adora sits down next to her. “It’s not that bad,” She shrugs. “You should’ve seen it earlier. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Glimmer that scared.”

Catra snorts, only a little bit derisive, but doesn’t say anything. Her shoulders are stiff, tense, like she’s waiting for someone to strike. Adora hasn’t seen that look on her since they were cadets, trying their best to cling onto each other like their lives depended on it. It’s unnerving in its familiarity.

She clears her throat, trying again. “Another nightmare?”

That gets her a scoff. “What, you thought they’d just magically stop once the chip was out?”

"Of course I didn't," She says. "It's just a question. You know it’s not actually a crime to ask what’s bothering you.”

“It is when it’s all you ask,” She mutters, throwing her a sideways glance. “What, don’t have anything better to do than to follow me around all night?” Her tail skims Adora’s face, purely to annoy her. “No more spaceships to blow up?”

Adora rolls her eyes. She’s never been good at this, biting her tongue when it came to Catra. Especially when she knows she’s doing this on purpose. “You’re an asshole, you know that, right?”

Catra smiles, all teeth. “There she is,” Her tail skims around Adora’s jawline before lightly smacking her cheek. Yeah, she’s totally doing this on purpose. “I hate it when you do that, you know.”

“What, care about you?”

“Treat me like I’m something that needs to be handled,” She throws Adora a hard look that has her looking down at her lap. “I don’t need to be looked after, you know.”

“Trust me, Catra,” She scoffs. “I know. I — Look, I didn’t come here to argue. I just wanted to talk.”

She narrows her eyes at her. “About what?”

She lifts a shoulder into a half-shrug. It’s been a long time since they’ve been able to talk, without the weight of what they've done threatening to crush them. “Anything you want” She says. “ Space or, uh, what's happening back on Etheria, or — I don’t know. Just anything. I've missed talking to you.”

It's quiet for a few moments, nothing but the wobbly thrum of the engines piercing the silence, until Catra says, “It’s not what I expected.”

“What isn't?”

“Space," She waves a hand around dismissively, "I didn’t think it'd be so, I don’t know, weird.”

Adora glances at the stars and then back at Catra. Yeah, she thinks, It's definitely not what she expected. “It’s quiet.”

“Same thing,” She snorts. She gives her a onceover, her eyebrow raising in bemusement. “What happened with that, anyway? Sparkles mentioned something about some weapon.”

“You guys talked about that?”

“It’s not like there’s anything else to do when you’re trapped on a spaceship in the literal middle of nowhere.”

“Right. Uh, I mean, it wasn’t really the Heart,” She explains, before realizing Catra probably has no idea what that is. “The weapon, I mean. It’s called the Heart of Etheria. But, that’s not why the stars are back. Okay, technically, it is but —”

“You’re terrible at this, you know that right?”

“Anyway,” Adora says, smiling at the way Catra smirks at her. “For the Heart of Etheria to even work, all the Runestones needed to be active or something. Once Glimmer did that, it was activated. Light Hope used that to activate a portal and take us out of Despondos — which was basically just some empty dimension, it’s a really, really long story — and then, hello, stars.”

Her mouth drops open a few times, like she’s trying to decide what to say. She reminds Adora a bit like those amberized fish Sea Hawk parades around like a trophy. “Wait, Light Hope?” Catra asks, not even touching the whole different dimension thing. Probably for the best, Adora thinks. “That asshole from your weird little castle?”

She rolls her eyes, laughs a little. “The Crystal Castle, Catra.”

She waves a hand. “Whatever,” She raises a brow, sending Adora a smirk and a look she’s become well acquainted with over the last decade: I told you so. “I knew there was something weird about her.”

“You never even met her!” Catra cocks her head to side, as if to say Well, was I wrong? Adora has to admit, she has a point.

There are times where that's all she can think about, cursing at herself in her head, wondering just what could have been saved if she had noticed the signs earlier, if she had done enough. She did that a lot in the days following Glimmer’s capture. She rubs the back of her neck, sighing, “Okay, maybe you were right.” Catra’s smirk just widens. Brat. “You know it was her that time we were trapped together, right?”

“What?”

“In the Crystal Castle. It took me a while to figure it out, but everything that happened, all those memories it showed us,” She bites the inside of her cheek, not wanting to look at her. She wonders what would’ve happened to them if Light Hope hadn’t been trying to push them apart. She wonders what they would be like if everyone hadn't been trying to push them apart.

“It was on purpose, it had to be. She was trying to get me to let go,” She says this part bitterly, with a caustic roll of her eyes. She looks over at Catra, who’s staring at her hands, sheathing and unsheathing her claws every other second. Adora frowns. “I’m sorry about that, you know.”

Catra looks up. “About what?”

“Just for all of it," A memory jolts in her mind, of Adora saying, yelling, You don't have to let Shadow Weaver treat you like that, and she closes her eyes in shame. "I didn’t really get it, why you couldn’t just leave.”

“Adora,” She sighs, giving her that same You’re an idiot look she had given her on Prime’s flagship, the same one she had been giving her for their whole lives. “I don’t need an apology from you for that. Not anymore.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Yeah,” She looks back down at her hands again. “I’m sorry too. About everything.”

Adora takes her hand and smiles. “I know. Thank you.”

Catra nods, once, then twice, staring at their hands before snatching hers back, her ears flattening against her head. Adora is reminded of just how different things are for them now. Prime’s words slash its way through her again but she can’t bring herself to push it down like she used to, like she knows she should. She doesn’t know why but a part of her wants to live in those words, of a world where Catra wants her, and nothing but her, of a world where nothing was wrong and Adora could stay without feeling like she was betraying everything she knows.

She’s still thinking about the feeling of their hands clasped together when Catra clears her throat. “What are you doing here anyway? You that desperate for attention?”

Adora puffs her chest out, just to make Catra laugh. It works. “Maybe I just have a sixth sense for these things. I hear you and alarms just start going off in my head.”

“You know, that actually explains a lot about the last few years. You just can’t stay away from me, can you?”

She blushes, thinking of Horde Prime’s words once more. There was a lot more truth to it than she cared to admit. “Oh, shut up. You’re not that special.”

“Uh-huh. Because you didn’t spend the last three years dropping everything to chase after me.”

“We were at war! I had moral obligations! It had nothing to do with you distracting me.”

Catra arches a brow and smirks. Oh no. “Did I say anything about distracting?”

“No, I — shut up!” Catra laughs at her as she gives her shoulder a harsh shove. “Stop laughing at me!” Adora feels her flush deepen as Catra just laughs harder.

“Seriously,” She says, her laughter turning into a giggle that has Adora mesmerized and breathless, “It’s the middle of the night. Not even you can run on 5 hours of sleep.”

"Uh, yes, I can."

"No, you can't," She argues. "You really want a repeat of what happened in the Commissary back when we were junior cadets?"

"Are you ever going to let that go? That was years ago."

"It was hilarious," Catra snickers and somehow she feels her face go even redder. "I don't think I've ever heard you scream that high."

"I don't know," She says, going to jab Catra in the ribs. She smacks her hand away. "The time someone," Another jab, "Left a mouse in my shoe was a pretty high contender."

"Okay, that happened once," She pulls at her hair at the Uh-huh Adora lets out, "Why are you up, idiot?"

“Ugh, Bow and Glimmer,” She groans fondly, her eyes rolling as she glances at the door behind them. “I had to get out of there or I’d just wake up to them making out or something.”

“Isn’t Entrapta and that clone in there too?”

“Wrong Hordak,” Adora supplies, which Catra wrinkles her nose at. "You know I’m pretty sure they’re sharing the same bed.”

“They’re sharing a bed? That’s it?”

“What do you mean, that’s it? That’s pretty huge!”

“Seriously?” She laughs, casting an exasperated look her way. “That’s where you cross the line? Like we didn’t do that all the time,” Catra stiffens the moment the words slip past her lips, and Adora feels her breath catch in her throat.

She ducks her head, not wanting Catra to see the embarrassed flush that rises to her cheeks again. They hadn’t really talked about that, about them. They haven’t really had the chance.

(Part of her wants to ask, wants to scream, Why would we? There's nothing to talk about. But it's way too late for that kind of lie to stick. Fatigue clings to Adora like the fading phantom aches of her healing; she's much too tired to lie to anyone, much less herself.)

The last time they’d tried, Catra had boarded herself up like a cage and she had stormed out in frustration. That had been days ago. Catra had been avoiding her ever since, practically fleeing every room she saw her in.

It shouldn’t bother her. It did.

“Catra,” She doesn’t look at her, her claws digging into the controls again. Her eyes stay focused on the sky, pitch black save for the luminescent glow of the stars. She doesn’t look up even as Adora tentatively reaches for her hand. But she doesn’t pull away. That has to count for something. “So, we’re not even going to talk about it?”

She scoffs, almost indignant, turning to glare at her. She still doesn’t pull her hand away. “Oh yeah, I’d love to talk about everything he told you. That would just really make my day, Adora. How’d you know?”

Adora tries to ignore the bite in her words. “So, what,” Her other hand goes to cling to her Bright Moon pin, fingers sliding over the golden ridges, pulling it back from her belt as far as it’ll go and watching as it goes back with a snap, “We just pretend this didn’t happen?”

“Yep, pretty much,” Catra deadpans.

“We have to talk about this —”

“No, we don’t,” She snaps, finally letting go of her hand. “Just drop it, Adora. Can you just listen to me for once?”

Adora scoffs. “That’s rich coming from you,” She runs her fingers over her pin, again and again. Calm down, she tells herself.

“I know this wasn’t —” Your choice, she finishes. None of this was her choice. Adora feels a wave of nausea come over her and she presses her fingers harder into her pin to steady herself, to force it down. “The last thing I want to do is push, but he used you to get to me, Catra,” Again, she presses. “It doesn’t feel right to just leave it.”

“I don’t need you trying to play the hero,” Catra says. “I’ve never asked you to do that.”

She looks down at Catra’s hands, curled in her lap, claws sheathed, and then her own. Her stomach twists with the familiar sickness that has her curling her fingers into the fabric of her sleepwear. Adora feels like she’s doing something wrong — everything about this just feels wrong. “I know. Every time I try to be what you need I just make things worse.”

“That’s what you think I want?” She asks. “For you to be what you think I need?”

"I don’t even know what you want, Catra,” Adora throws her hands up before getting up and pacing around the controls, trying to suppress the urge to pummel something out of pure frustration. She regards her with a raised brow, her expression betraying nothing. “You asked me to stay. I don't know, I thought maybe that meant something! I didn’t think you’d spend the next week avoiding me.”

“I haven’t been avoiding you —”

“Yes, you have,” Adora says. They’re going to wake up everyone else at this rate, but she doesn’t care. “Do you think I haven’t noticed that you're only out here when I’m busy with something else? You practically run out of the room whenever I’m here!”

She stalks towards her as if she were a predator, as if they were playing the most harrowing game of cat-and-mouse the universe has ever seen, and Adora’s too distracted from the way her fang peeks out from the corner of her mouth to notice the glare she’s levelling at her. “Well, maybe I wanted to avoid this conversation as long as possible!”

“I thought you —”

“I don’t,” Catra bites out. “You’re the last person I want to have this conversation with. In what world do you think I would want to talk about that?”

“Well, it’s not like we can just ignore it.”

“We can’t?”

“No, we — what would you do if you were me and you found out that,” Adora stops herself. Found out what? That Catra had been in love with her for years? That Catra wanted Adora of all people? “What would you do, Catra?” She asks, desperation seeping through her like an open wound, because she has to know. She needs to know, because she has no idea what to do with any of this.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You seemed to think it mattered a couple of days ago.”

“That was different,” She says. “You can’t honestly just drop that on me and expect me to just let it go!”

Adora couldn’t keep the hurt from seeping in her voice even if she tried. “But you’ll let it go now?”

“Happily.”

“So, what am I supposed to do with this? Tell me what you would do with this,” Because Adora doesn’t know — she has no fucking idea — what she’s supposed to put this. She thought she did, guarding it like a well-kept secret, like a promise, but that was wrong too. She has been sick ever since the words first struck her, unable to cling to it, unable to let it go.

“What, did you hit your head a little too hard again? I’m not gonna tell you how to handle this," She says. "I just want you to leave it alone. ”

She feels something hot and desperate ignite through her, it makes her skin feel like it's scorching; it makes her feel dizzy with something. “Why not?” She pleads.

“Because I’m not you, Adora. If I were in your spot, I would —” She groans, frustrated, running a hand down her arm and curling into herself. Catra would what? What would she be doing if she was in her place? “It doesn’t matter,” She hisses. “None of this matters. Why do you even care if we talk about this?”

“I can’t just ignore it. I’m not you. Not all of us can just run when things get inconvenient for us,” Catra scowls at that and Adora screws her eyes shut, sighs, taking her hand again in apology. “Sorry, I — Catra, I can’t pretend it didn’t happen,” She blinks back the tears of frustration that well up and something in her face shifts, not quite softening, but not quite scowling either.

“Why not?”

“Because it means something to me,” She argues. That feeling swells in Adora’s chest again. This time, Adora lets it sit there, unbidden. This time, she doesn’t push it down. “I can’t act like it didn’t matter. I don’t want to.”

“Why? Do you really need an ego boost that badly?”

Adora clenches her jaw, her hands balling into fists. She can’t pinpoint the reason why this is so important, why she can’t let go. She just doesn’t want to. "You think this is about my ego?”

“What else could this be about?” She asks, like she has this all figured out. It reminds Adora of their time in the Crystal Castle, when she had thrown accusation after accusation at her, like a double-edged sword, shutting her eyes to Adora’s denials. It makes Adora grit her teeth. Catra has always been way too stubborn for her own good.

“You don’t really expect me to believe that you honestly want to ‘clear the air’,” She says this airily, mockingly, with a shake of her head, “I know you better than that. That’s never how it works with you.”

“That’s not why I wanted to talk about this with you.”

“Then why?” Catra asks, staring at her in shock, in bewilderment, in disbelief, Adora doesn’t really know. She can’t pinpoint it. All she can focus on is Catra, and the iridescence of her eyes, the way she’s still flushed, barely noticeable if you’re not paying close attention, and the way her lips are rough, like she had been pulling on them with her fangs. She is asking her something — asking her why — and all Adora can think about is her and nothing but her.

There is just Catra, and it has always been Catra, even when she tried to pretend otherwise and weaved lie after lie like a tapestry, she has always been the one who sent her world spinning out of control; it's just her.

So Adora does the only thing she can think of; she does the worst thing imaginable: she kisses her, her hands clinging to Catra’s waist as she slowly presses her back into the controls.

It makes her feel like she’s drowning, like she’s letting herself get consumed and taken apart, piece-by-piece. It’s always felt like that around her, she realizes. Like she’s burning herself alive from the inside out, like she’s handing her her heart and letting her devour her. It always felt like something that was a little too big for her, a little too much.

Catra kisses her back, deepening the kiss as she presses them closer together and all Adora can feel is an aching, suffocating panic where her heart should be, overwhelming and all consuming in its desperation.

She sweeps her tongue over Catra’s bottom lip, feeling almost delirious at the gasp that gets her. Her leg slips in-between hers and Catra clutches to her tighter, her hands cupping Adora’s face like a burn.

Her fingers trace a gentle pattern into Catra’s hips as she pulls away, resting her forehead against hers. The panic that had been swelling, burning, through her has twisted into something else, guilt. It sickens her, it horrifies her. Then again, that’s nothing new. Adora horrifies herself.

Catra opens her mouth to say something, and she’s desperate suddenly, terrified of what she might say, of how Adora’s stupid choices might have ruined whatever equilibrium they had found themselves in again. All she feels is a desperate need to fix this.

“I’m sorry,” She whispers. I would do it again, Adora thinks, in a heartbeat. She’s slowly realizing there’s been nothing she’s wanted more these past few years than to press Catra close to her and kiss her until there's nothing but them, until they have begun to blur into each other. She shouldn’t. She knows she shouldn’t. “I’m sorry,” She repeats.

Catra's eyes flicker from Adora’s lips to her eyes, her nose, the blush that stains her cheeks. She wonders what she must look like to her, bloodied with a feeling she can't even begin to categorize and utterly sick with guilt.

Her hands stay where they are, her fingers running lightly over her cheekbones. Then, as if it were never there, that dazed expression flickers into nothingness. Something in her hardens, and Catra stiffens, like she wasn’t gentle in Adora’s arms a second ago, kissing her like her life depended on it. 

Her hands go to drop by her side, but Adora catches them before she can, her touch sounding more like a beg. Please, she thinks, Let me fix this. 

Catra snatches her hands back without even looking at her, as though it means nothing, as though she is nothing. “Goodnight, Adora,” she says, slipping from her reach.

The door slides shut behind her, leaving Adora shrouded in darkness and starlight, and nothing but her buried desires to keep her company. She feels something wet hit her skin, and then again, and again, and again. She's shaking with it now, pressing her hands to her mouth to keep it down, keep it quiet.

It's not enough — she tries and tries but it's never enough — and the sound reverberates through the room; it echoes hollowly through her chest.

She finds herself leaning against the controls she had pressed Catra up against, where she had kissed her until she was sick with it. She presses her hands harder and harder and just lets the tears fall. She doesn't push it down. What else is there for her to do?

Maybe, she thinks, maybe some things that are buried deep are supposed to stay that way.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to leave a comment if you liked it and you can find me on [tumblr](https://auberigines.tumblr.com/) & [twitter](https://twitter.com/auberigines)! thank you for reading!


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